Division 1's 'Admin' work: The Switch
by SanMonkey
Summary: After the Fullbringers have been dealt with, the Gotei 13 find themselves prospering in a rare season of peace. This time, however, the threat comes from within: Yamamoto's orders. He's not satisfied that his captains can finally get a break, with overpowered villains seemingly all either locked up or dead. If Aizen can't mess things up anymore, it's up to Yamamoto to do it.


_A/N: This stump of a fic sat on my laptop, unfinished and unedited, since March 2013. As I write, it is January 2016, and I've just found it. This is a lazy fic, set between the fullbringers arc and the thousand year blood war arc. The Gotei 13 have nothing of real importance to do, but Yama-jii finds something to complain about anyway. A change is in order._

 _Rated T because I'm not sure how future chapters will turn out. Oh yeah, there might be a smattering of swearing, depend on who's speaking._

 _ **DISCLAIMER:**_ _I OWN NOTHING. It's all the intellectual property of Tite Kubo._

 **Prologue: The News**

7am on a Saturday morning was an utterly evil time to hold a captain's meeting. Naturally, Head Captain Yamamoto informed each captain 1 hour before that they were to be in attendance at the 1st division HQ - promptly - at 7am.

Mayuri, for one, was not pleased to receive this message. Just as the first crack of daylight peeked through the blinds of his private quarters, a particularly hairy hell butterfly perched itself on his nose. Instinctively, the scientist's hand smacked his nose in a sleepy attempt to stop the unpleasant tickling sensation. No sensation of any sort followed – for the butterfly, anyway; its guts had been smeared across Kurotsuchi's sleeping face. Still dreaming, his tongue slipped out of his mouth to lick his lips as thoughts of pike fish – his favourite food – crossed his mind. It was quickly withdrawn as the bitter remains of the butterfly came into contact with his upgraded, extra-sensitive taste buds he had installed half a decade ago, to better enjoy pike fish and similar tasting foods. Frowning unconsciously, the man stirred. Why could he suddenly feel slime settling across his face? The trademark Kurotsuchi golden eyes – somehow, one of the scientist's only body parts that had remained untouched since birth – fluttered open, still rimmed with the redness of exhaustion, from having stayed up until 2am finishing paper work relating to his recent (failed) attempt to 'borrow' a few residents of Rukongai. He'd have to hand that in to the Head Captain soon – but that wasn't the problem at hand.

Willing his weary body to get out of bed, the scrawny captain plodded to his vanity mirror, which he'd sit in front of most mornings to make his face as terrifying as it could be with the power of make-up. In a mess of unruly blue hair and a blotchy pale sleep-face, Mayuri noticed a dead hell butterfly smudged all over his once beautiful face. Had the butterfly not already been brutally flattened by then, it would have experienced an equally befitting death for one who dared disturb Captain Kurotsuchi.

Seething with rage, the man howled, disturbing not only the entire 12th division, but the adjacent divisions also. Hell butterflies were known to fizzle away after dying, for reasons unknown, but Mayuri now knew that it was something to do with the acidity of their internal organs, for it was currently burning into his face. Or, he had an allergy. Either way, his once beautiful face was:

"RUUUUUINED!"

Poor Ukitake was woken abruptly, coughing in his usual fashion – not because of the noise coming from next door, but because his third seats had mistaken the unidentified vociferous howl to be _him_ in need of assistance.

"UKITAKE-TAICHOU! ARE YOU ALRIGHT? I HEARD YOU-"

"What do you mean **you** heard him, Sentaro? I _**clearly**_ got here first!"

"What are you tryna say? That you love the taicho more? HA!"

"Well, CLEARLY I DO!"

"AS IF YOU COULD-"

"QUIT IT, you two!" The screaming match between the two third seats was abruptly ended by the entrance of the 13th division's rather disgruntled vice-captain, Rukia Kuchiki. Silently, the white haired captain thanked his vice-captain for having saved him from another raucous morning, doing his best to abstain from coughing as Rukia rushed over to attend to him. Although he rarely mentioned it, he was eternally grateful that it was Rukia out of all the powerful shinigami in the Gotei 13 that had been selected as his vice-captain – he didn't know how he'd survive with anyone else. A glare from Rukia to the third seats guilted them into bowing their heads in shame; the two shinigami mumbling apologies as they slinked away. It was another typical morning in the 13th division, only occurring _slightly_ earlier than normal.

"I've got to say, though, Taicho," Rukia remarked as she handed her captain his tablets and a glass of water, "I've never heard you scream like that! It's actually rather impressive: for once, the whole division's up and alert at the time they should be." Juushiro pondered whether he had actually screamed upon waking up. Perhaps he had, but if it had been that loud, then surely he would have remembered it.

"Funny that, I don't recall screaming this morning…" he mused, as he swallowed the medicine. Surprise flashed across Rukia's face briefly, before the graceful Kuchiki manner that had been drilled into her subconscious for the past fifty years overrode her display of emotion.

"Well, if it didn't come from in here, then…" Rukia's dark blue irises motioned towards the 12th division barracks, visible outside of the window, "I wonder what's going on in there."

Meanwhile, Captain Kurotsuchi was having his 'wounds' tended to, if his minor injuries could be classified as such, and he certainly wasn't thrilled at the prospect of the whole situation, either. Nemu, still in her plain white night robes (and rather exhausted from assisting her captain in the late-night paperwork), was dabbing antiseptic cream on the burn, having removed the sizzling butterfly remains carefully. Trying to ignore her father's angry complaints, she examined the poor critter that had to be sent to her taicho, of all possible recipients.

"Who would send a blasted hell butterfly at this ungodly hour, anyway? It is _vital_ to get at least 8 hours of sleep a night for the brain to be functioning optimally! How can I perform satisfactorily with the scalpel today if I-"

"Mayuri-sama!" Nemu interjected boldly, wincing at the entirely unintended and most unexpected volume of her voice, "There's a captain's meeting in just under an hour, and your presence is requested by the Head-Captain." Golden eyes, peeking out through the partial obscurity of bandages, examined his daughter, for no reason other than to discomfort her – that Nemu could consider, knowing her father and the intentions behind his actions. Governed by an amoral desire to acquire information, these intentions could be inadvertently cruel, Nemu believed.

"Oh, is that so?" the sardonic tone to his voice straightened Nemu's back. Was he going to yell at her for interrupting him and lecture her on knowing her place, or was he actually responding to her normally for some reason only God knew? Life was a real gamble for Nemu sometimes.

"I salvaged the message sent with the hell butterfly." There followed a moment of silence as Mayuri processed this information, during which no person present had any idea as to what Mayuri was thinking, possibly including the man himself. An event which, as Nemu would agree, happened most often when something had caused his brain to initiate its problem-solving mode. At this moment in time, however, he was not in a state of mind to fully utilise his brain. Hence, his current state. Eventually, he spewed out a stock response reserved for times of sub-maximal brain power.

"Don't speak so sharply to your father, girl! Be grateful I tolerate your oddities!" admonished Mayuri, who seemed oblivious to the irony of his fear of punishment, Nemu apologised, and ran off to fetch his robes.

Alone again, Mayuri grasped the opportunity to examine his now recovering face.

 _Beautiful,_ he thought as he smoothed off the redness with white paint, admiring it in his mirror. He continued in this fashion for the best part of half an hour.

An hour later, eleven dozy captains and one alert Unohana (having stayed up during the night to aid in a surgery on a reckless bunch of 11th division officers) entered the first division meeting hall to attend the meeting. Yamamoto couldn't believe his eyes as he witnessed this rare phenomenon: all thirteen captains of the Gotei 13 present for the meeting on time – at 7am, no less? Even Shunsui was present, hands over his ears in an attempt to block out the buzzing chatter as his hangover took its toll. Now that was something, decided the old man. Perhaps he'd have to hold more meetings in the early hours of the morning from now on.

Oddly enough, all hell butterflies but one had returned. Given the mildness of the situation, this was an abnormality in the ritualistic patterns of life without war – not that anyone was ungrateful for the blessed peace finally bestowed upon the world. Rather, it was curious. Perhaps he'd have his division investigate the circumstances behind the disappearance of one of Soul Society's most reliable messengers at a later time.

"Hurry up then old man! Why've ya called us all here this freakin' early?" complained a grumpy Kenpachi, the spikes of his hair slightly awry as he stood in between captains Muguruma and Ukitake. Ignoring the brute's snarky comment, Yamamoto began to speak:

"Good morning to you all, I hope you are well. Recently, I've noticed that there have been an increasing number of incidents _within_ divisions, and it simply must stop." His twelve subordinates shared looks of confusion – their divisions had been getting along better than usual! What was the head-captain on about? Nevertheless, they remained silent as the old man continued to speak.

"Therefore, to resolve any conflicts there may be currently, I have come up with an appropriate solution. The twelve of you will be spending this upcoming week taking charge of a different division. It will allow you to resolve conflicts fairly by offering an outsider's view to these petty disagreements, hence allowing us to reach maximum productivity!"

Up until that point in the meeting, Shinji Hirako hadn't really been paying much attention. His thoughts had been of: how tired he was, whether or not he actually had a hangover and how he was looking forward to that cup of coffee he'd order that idiot Hinamori to make him when he returned to the 5th division barracks. Those last few words the captain commander had announced so jovially sent turned his inner musings into turmoil. He didn't want to leave his comfy leather armchair that he sat behind his desk all day in! Nor his records, and the record player that he spent so much time and effort retrieving from the world of the living! What about his obedient Hinamori-fukutaicho, expert user of the coffee machine? This was outrageous! The 5th division was at its calmest in about 50 years!

It seemed the other captains shared these sentiments.

"Hey Yama-jii! What're you talking about? Sure, we should punish Zaraki. His squad's always causing trouble, but mine isn't! Nanao-chan has a great time, so do I, as does everyone else!" protested Shunsui.

"Chyeah, a great time doing all the paperwork you lump on her, you oaf," sneered Soi-Fon, continuing, "I'd gladly accept, just to get away from that fool Omaeda, but none of you lumbering fools could lead the Onmitsukido missions I am responsible for the success of. None of you have good enough shunpo!"

"I beg to differ," came the monotonous drone of Kuchiki Byakuya, "I was trained by Shihouin Yoruichi in the art of shunpo. Not that I'd leave my division in the hands of any unstable fool such as Kurotsuchi, or worse, Kenpachi." Before said captains could retaliate, Retsu Unohana took the chance to voice her opinion:

"I'm sure all of your reasons are valid enough, but I'm concerned for the well-being of the shinigami of the Gotei 13. There has to be someone with sufficient medical knowledge to oversee the 4th division, and I'm uncertain as to whether any other captain could take on my role for an entire week." Murmurs of agreement around the room grew to angered shouts, and the head captain found it necessary to silence them.

"SILENCE!" he yelled, slamming his walking stick against the floor with great force. The room became silent.

"You are incorrect, Retsu, you are not the only captain here with sufficient medical knowledge to lead your division. There is one other. Surely, it has not slipped your mind that we have a highly intelligent scientist among us?" Taking his camouflaged zanpakuto, the old man gestured to Kurotsuchi, whose face was still sore underneath his ridiculous make-up, at the other end of the row. Unohana's face visibly blanched as her stomach filled with dread, imagining what horrors he may force upon the patients. _Her_ patients. The entire Gotei 13 force! The 11th division would crumble apart, for sure. Having noticed the look of apprehension on his colleague's face, Captain Kyouraku chuckled, shaking his head.

"With all due respect, Yama-jii, you could perhaps reconsider your decision; I think a dying shinigami's safer left to fate in the forest of menos than at the mercy of Kurotsuchi-taicho equipped with surgical tools," he teased, grinning at the anger he evoked from the scrawny scientist. Said scientist exploded.

"I don't care for your petty concerns! What about my experiments?! All data will likely be lost, if anyone else takes over! All the results I've collected over the past century will be annihilated if the Kusajishi defences aren't held up! Which is a strenuous task I cannot entrust to ANYONE! I don't, no, I CAN'T trust-"

"Hold up. You're more concerned about some gunk shit locked up in a cage than our own _people?!"_ Captain Muguruma demanded incredulously, still not quite adjusted to the quirks of the odd man. Kurotsuchi did not affirm or deny, instead choosing to return a furious glare, his golden eyes flaring. Had there been any weaker officers nearby, they may have felt their knees buckle as Muguruma's reiatsu fired up in an unreasonable retaliation.

"Hey, Kensei, maybe Kurotsuchi will learn a thing or two during this week about what it means to have morals," added Rose, regarding the heated glaring match the two captains were having with mild interest. "Oh, and what are these _Kusajishi defences_ you speak of? Are suggesting to us that you, a captain, are unable to defend your barracks from the _youngest vice-captain_?"

"That's just a little pathetic," muttered Captain Hitsugaya, who not only had to withstand these meetings, but beside the least mentally stable captain of all. His neighbour did not appreciate the comment.

"DO YOU WANT TO ENDURE ASHISOGI JI-"

"SHUT THE HELL UP, MORON! THE OLD MAN'S TRYING TO SAY SOMETHING!" Bellowed Zaraki, absolutely sick of the 12th division captain's screeching. Begrudgingly, Muguruma and Kurotsuchi released their grips on their zanpakuto, neither wanting to admit that they feared their bloodthirsty colleague just a little bit. Ukitake suppressed a coughing fit in the suddenly deafening silence.

For once, Yamamoto was thankful for Zaraki's impatience and... well, _scariness._ The meeting continued:

"Vice Captain Sasakibe will inform you later in the day as to which division you will be overseeing this upcoming week. Starting tomorrow, and ending exactly a week from today, you will no longer be captain of your respective divisions. Leave your haoris here; you will not be needing them, after all. A week from now, you will all report here, and afterwards you will be able to return to your original divisions. You have until tomorrow morning to pack a suitcase of your belongings and be at your new barracks. Additionally, the first division is exempt from this administrative exercise. Meeting dismissed."

The captains left, minus their haoris, grumbling angrily at the Captain-Commander, who they knew was going to enjoy being the only one to stay in his barracks. Hell was going to break loose this week, perhaps even literally, if things got bad.

 _BORING POST-PROLOGUE A/N: Thanks for taking the time to read this crapfic. I don't have any aim in writing this other than to amuse myself, and to put my favourite captains in unlikely situations they find uncomfortable. What better way to make the captains uncomfortable than to put them in a division they don't belong to? Oh, and if someone's already written a fic like this, tell me, because I'm not here to plagiarize._

 _As this is primarily a humorous fic, there won't be any focus on specific pairings, though there may be some moments of some pairings (ranging from crack to semi-canon) included for the purposes of humour. I'm going to try and keep the characters in-character to the best of my abilities, so if I slip up, let me know._

 _SanMonkey out._


End file.
